Daylight
by Tan McPhereson
Summary: It was raining. Hard. As Santana laid her hands on the steering wheel, she saw someone, something, in the distance.


*waves*

Well, it has been a while hasn't it? First UC ship fanfiction, here we go. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**DAYLIGHT**

It was raining. Hard.

Artie Abrams was not pleased. It hadn't been a good day. Plus it was raining. He hated the rain. It was too damp, too dark and too…depressing. At that time, Artie Abrams had enough of depressing in his life.

Great, he thought to himself. Mom's late again. Doesn't she realize that her son's in a wheelchair? And that he has no raincoat? Who even brings a raincoat in high school anyway? Why am I even in high school? Why the hell am I even in a wheelchair? Damn it, this sucks. Oh just shut up Artie, he thought, shaking his head. I'm sure she has a valid reason for leaving me out here in the pouring rain.

At least he has some time to think about what the hell just happened today.

* * *

It was raining. Hard.

The wipers sloshed the rain back and forth on Santana Lopez' windshield.

"Christ, what is taking that girl so long?"

Ring!

"Brittany? Yeah? What? I've been waiting here for half an hour! I don't care if Mike asked you out. Yeah, yeah you two are the cutest couple around, but that doesn't mean that you can neglect your friends. Neglect? No, it isn't a brand of painkiller! Okay, okay, I won't wait up. Yes, I forgive you. Bye. Mwah!"

She couldn't help but laugh. Brittany was her best friend after all. Make that her only friend; her only true friend. And finally, the blonde was happy with someone, someone that didn't use her, someone that actually cared (and could dance as well as she did.)

Did it hurt the dark haired Cheerio that people just wanted her for the fun? That she didn't have her own cute Asian guy? She'd tell herself it didn't, but she, more than anyone else, knows it does. As Santana laid her hands on the steering wheel, she saw someone, something, in the distance.

* * *

"Dude, Tina's really running through those guys huh? We might have ourselves another Brittany over here."

Artie winced. "Shut up Sam. You don't really know her."

"Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to cheer you up," the jock said with a smirk. "You look all depressed."

"Please," he replied. "Don't say that word. I've been trying to lighten up lately, but—"

"Is this still about what happened at the locker room? Artie you know they didn't mean to do that."

"I know. It wasn't that. The reaction was unnecessary; I can handle my own problems."

Sam gave a smile, but barely. It was stupid, what happened. But what could he do? Artie was disabled, things happen when others aren't careful. This was a football team after all. No one really learns to act delicately.

At that moment a bushel of curly brown hair bobbed into sight. Mr. Shue.

"Alright! You guys ready for another awesome assignment?"

"No," Artie murmured.

"Cmon," the teacher joked. "This one's easy. Real easy. Okay, what seems to brighten your day up? Something that makes you happy? Yes, Rachel?"

"Gold stars."

"Santana?"

"Uh, don't really know, don't really care."

"Mercedes?"

"Downloading a new track from a favorite artist."

"Good, Puck?"

"Uh, pumping iron? And of course hangin' with my baby mama."

Finn squirmed. "Go get a room," snapped Kurt, chuckling.

"Alright, alright," Mr. Shuester continued. "Well, lately, I have noticed quite a few of you looking a bit down. And since you've been working your butts off preparing for Regionals, I thought I'd give you kids a break. So, the assignment for this week is to find a song that makes you, you in particular, happy. It doesn't have to make other people feel happy, but it has to make you feel great. It has to lift you up, make you smile. And, at the end of the week, you'll be presenting your song to the class and explaining why it makes you feel, well, happy."

Great, Artie thought. Just when I'm feeling like the lowest of the low, Mr. Shue gives us an assignment on being happy?

"And remember guys, this is about self expression and some sort of representation. The way you show the class the song shows who you are. Why you chose that song shows you as a person. We're trying to go deeper here guys, Glee's not just about singing and dancing around."

As everyone else went abuzz with their ideas, Artie excused himself, and wheeled out the door.

* * *

She really didn't know, but she really did care.

Santana twisted the tips of her hair around her fingers, watching everyone else. She noticed that Artie had left the room. Maybe it's because of what happened, she thought. Poor guy.

The girl did a double take in her head. Her? Feeling bad for someone else? This was so not her. Well, Glee had changed some stuff, I mean, she had been hanging out with the horridly dressed Rachel Berry, but Santana Lopez was still that bitchy, popular kid.

What had made her happy? Hooking up with guys? That wasn't happiness, that was for the pure pleasure of it. Was it making people part like the Red Sea when she passed through the halls? That was cool, but it didn't make her happy. Come to think of it, Glee made her happy. Singing and performing made her feel like she could do anything. But of course Santana couldn't be a Glee loser for all her life.

"Is it my fault that I'm disabled?" Artie muttered to himself and he wheeled down the empty corridor. It was stupid, all the guys giving him pity looks, moving out of the way looking sorry every time. He fell only this morning, and now everyone's acting all different. The only people not treating him like porcelain were the Glee members. He smiled at the thought of them, then frowned. There was that damn assignment to do. Happy? What the heck made him feel happy anyway? Plus they had to present it in front of everyone. Not that Artie was shy, but he just didn't feel like putting himself out there, again.

"Ow! Watch where you're going wheels!"

"Oh! I'm so…sorry."

The brown-skinned cheerleader looked at him with her usual old what-the-hell face. What was he doing anyway? Wheeling around the corridors, not paying attention to where he was going.

"Sorry Santana. Didn't mean to. I was distracted," Artie said trying to maneuver his way around.

"Well you better not do that again."

"Yeah, sorry again."

She hesitated.

"Wait."

He turned around, surprised and somewhat anxious.

"You got some, uh, gum on your wheel."

"Oh great!" Artie began moving from side to side, stretching out trying to reach for the bottom of his wheel.

Crap, I shouldn't have said that, thought Santana.

"Artie just quit it. I'm sure you can get it later. Where…where are you headed anyway?"

"To my History class. You know, the one we have together?"

"Do we really have to go?" She moaned.

He smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Yeah, if you wanna pass this year."

"Fine, fine."

"Wanna go there together?"

"What?"

She was taken aback. Usually kids like Artie would've run away in fear by now. I mean yeah, they were in Glee together, but still, she didn't usually talk to him. And there he was, confidently asking her to go to History with him. Plus, usually, she would be all mean and above him, but Artie was kinda cool, with him being in a wheelchair and being on Glee. Plus his wicked set of pipes, too. Wow, she thought.

"Do you want to come with me to History class? I mean, I always see you walking by yourself to it, I thought you'd like a companion this time, since this is like, the only time you and Brittany don't have your class together."

"Wait, wait. How do you even know that? Are you stalking me or something?"

"Observation," he said with a smirk. "Plus, out schedules are quite similar. We go to classrooms near each other."

Santana cocked her head to the side.

"Weird. Never really noticed that before."

"Well, now you know. So…?" He grinned. She was actually acting nice. Santana Lopez was actually talking to him outside of Glee Club. It was interesting, but Artie didn't look much into it. She was someone new that he could talk to.

The girl grabbed a couple of books she had dropped on the floor.

"Let's go wheels."

* * *

That someone, that something, was actually Artie Abrams. He wasn't in the rain, but he might as well have been. The roof had holes in it, and the school was probably locked already, so there was so chance that the guy could wait inside. Santana shook her head and revved up her car, heading towards Artie as quick as she could.

"Hey!" she shouted, rolling down the window. "You okay?"

He squinted through his soaked glasses. "No, not really."

"Oh, well I didn't really notice that," she replied, with a grin.

He raised his eyebrow and cracked a smile.

"C'mon Artie. Get in, I'm serious."

* * *

It was 9 am, and the day was going great, for one person at least.

"Ew, that's disgusting."

Quinn slammed her locker shut and looked at the cheerleader beside her.

"Just 'cause I'm head of the squad again, doesn't mean you have to be a total bitch Santana."

The dark haired girl titled her head, grinning sarcastically.

"Well, you two could have gotten a room."

"I just kissed him. He's my boyfriend. That's what people who date do," the blonde quipped.

"Wait, you're dating Puck now?"

Both Santana and Quinn jumped.

"How the hell did you get here Brit?"

"I…don't really know."

Santana rolled her eyes. Oh, Brit, she thought. It _was_ kind of great having Quinn back as a Cheerio, although there was no way in hell that she was going to show it. Poker face girl, she told herself.

It's not that she wanted to be mean, it was just how she was. From a really young age, she was taught to fight for what she deserved; there was no backing down in the Lopez house. You couldn't just cry and crumple into a corner, getting pitied and pitying others won't get you anywhere. The strange thing? Santana actually liked it. She wasn't at all traumatized by the pressure and the expectations, in fact, it fueled her. She was a relatively good friend, if you had the rare chance of actually being her friend. In fact, Santana was a great friend, look at how she sticks by Brittany, but she still wasn't the type to sit and comfort you as you cried. She would let you vent, but as soon as you were ready, she'd tell you to get up and do something. It was the way she was, and it was pretty much working in her favor.

On the other side of the McKinley High world, things weren't working that well for a certain Artie Abrams. It was his first day of early morning football practice and Coach Beiste wasn't going to let his disability hinder him. Yeah he couldn't run around and ram into stuff like they did, but she had him do his own little exercises on the side, like for example, having him wheel himself around the track fifteen times. It was hell on his arms, but it did make him stronger. Plus, she had him do maneuvering exercises in the grass. The tires pretty much dug trenches in the ground. By the time practice was over Artie had practically sweat Niagara Falls. As the guys bustled into the locker room, Coach Beiste pulled him aside.

"Hey Abrams."

"Yeah Coach?"

"Good job out there today," she nodded. "You got skill, and perseverance. That's good. I just don't want you to wear yourself out so much, okay? But keep it up."

The burly lady walked away, flipping through some team stats. Artie smirked and confidently spun around to join the rest of the team. Big mistake. He practically wheeled himself into a herd of huge football players. The floor was wet, and he had lost control, and soon he hit a locker. It felt like smashing into a cold, hard, smelly wall. At impact, Artie lost balance and his wheelchair tipped over. Bam.

It wasn't the first time he had fallen out of the chair, but it was the first time this happened in front of people other than his parents. Trying to get up off of the floor was horrible, not to mention embarrassing. Artie was edging himself closer to the upturned chair when all the guys started fussing over him. Sounds weird, but that was what they did. Finn hoisted Artie up by him arms while Mike fixed the chair and wheeled it towards him. All the other guys were standing there, looking concerned holding their hands out cautiously as Finn guided Artie down onto the wheelchair. He was soon bombarded with apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Feeling weird, he pushed himself backward. Everyone was staring at him, as if they had just broken something precious.

"Guys, I'm okay. Seriously. Get off," Artie defended. He gave the guys a stop-worrying-about-me look and started getting ready to change. They didn't stop staring. Usually, the team would go on with their business, but they just walked around hesitantly, watching out for Artie in case something happened, as if Artie would've fallen again. And the worst thing? It went on for the whole day. Somehow it had spread too. And because it was to football team, _the_ football team, a bunch of rough and tough guys, expressing concern and worry over a kid in a wheelchair, the whole school must've decided to act the same way. Now, instead of having to deal with weird looks from kids, Artie had to deal with pity looks, which were of course the worst looks anyone could get.

Basically, by lunch time, he was in a horrible mood. And his Glee mates had noticed.

"What is wrong with you?" Kurt asked. "You haven't made on comment on that stupid video game…what's it called?"

Artie just sat there, playing with his food, glancing around at everyone else.

"Why are they all staring?" he muttered.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Artie, chill. They'll stop by tomorrow for sure."

He looked up. "Oh yeah? Notice that no one talks to me, or bumps into me, even by accident! They think I'm a cautionary tale!"

The table just shrugged and went back to eating.

Maybe people would stop, Artie thought. But still, just because he was in a wheelchair, it didn't mean that he couldn't fall and get hurt. There was no way that his legs would get worse anyway. He chuckled. The bell rang. Great, Glee club time.

"Okay, today we'll be discussing the Greeks' contributions."

Santana dropped her head onto her book. She already knew this stuff. Her eyes wandered to Artie, all the way on the other side of the room. He had his head on his hands, staring at the teacher. She smiled. He looked so incredibly bored, his glasses were way too low and his eyes were half open. On the way to class, the two had a very interesting conversation. Santana didn't really know how to start talking to him, but then he just started blabbing about the Glee assignment, and the conversation went onto flying cars, then to Mr. Schue's hair.

"It does look like a patch of wavy tumbleweeds," Artie joked.

"Oh c'mon," she giggled. "It's not that bad."

"Woah, a Cheerio crony defending Mr. Schuster's locks. Weird."

They laughed. Santana had never noticed that Artie was so easy to talk to, and Artie had never noticed that Santana could be really sharp and quick-witted. They were both equally surprised by each other. It was great, like meeting someone completely new, someone that they got along with well.

"Wait a few minutes guys," their teacher announced. "Principal Figgins is calling me. Don't start a riot."

Santana leaned over her desk.

"Psst, Artie!"

He jolted up. Everyone else was half asleep.

"What?" he whispered back.

"Wanna ditch?"

His brow furrowed.

"I'm not so sure…"

"C'mon we only have three minutes left. And anyone that goes into Figgins' office stays there for the longest time."

He titled his head, then nudged the guy beside him, saying, "Hey, cover for us okay?", motioning to Santana. "If Mr. Pross comes in before the bell rings, just tell him we went to the bathroom."

The dude looked back and forth from Artie to the cheerleader, shrugged, nodded and went back to sleep.

The two left the classroom cautiously, with huge grins on their faces.

"I cannot believe we're skipping class!" Artie exclaimed.

"Technically, there wasn't a class to skip anyway," Santana replied, with that usual mischievous face on.

He laughed.

"Plus," she added. "You don't even need to sit through that class anymore. Artie, you practically know the lesson inside out. I mean, who answers every single question in that class?"

The guy smirked. "I thought you didn't notice that I was in your History class."

"Well…uh, I guess I did," she murmured.

They were strolling down the hallway, just saying nothing, but it was fun.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you doing this?"

She turned to him, stopping. "What do you mean?"

He pushed his glasses up. "Well, before today, you've never talked to me outside of Glee. And even in Glee you still didn't really talk to me."

"Well," she said looking down. "I don't know. Why do you even care anyway? You should be glad I'm talking to you." As soon as it came out, she regretted it. Why was she talking to him anyway? He was a…loser, wait, no he wasn't, it was just, he was fun to be with. It was different from being with Brit, or Quinn, or even with Puck and all the guys she'd been with before. He wasn't shy, and held his own. She could have a proper conversation with Artie, no strings attached.

"I was just asking. Sorry." Great, Artie thought, she's being a bitch again. And I thought she actually was going to be cool the whole day.

The bell rang, again.

She looked around. "I've got to go Artie." With that, the cheerleader left.

* * *

"C'mon Artie. Get in, I'm serious."

She moved the car closer, then got out to help him. It wasn't an easy task, her car wasn't equipped for disabled people. She had to wheel Artie close to the front seat, and he grabbed onto car handle and lifted himself on to the seat, then Santana had to help him put his legs into the car. After folding up the wheelchair and stuffing it into the backseat, she popped back in and started the car once more.

"Sorry I'm soaking your car."

"Nah, it's fine."

"I guess I should be lucky that I'm getting to ride in Santana Lopez' car huh?"

"Artie. I didn't mean that! It came out all wrong."

He cupped his hands. "Yeah, I get that. You got so used to being all high and mighty to everybody, and when you want to be nice to someone you aren't so normally nice to, it feels weird. "

She exhaled and smiled. "How in the world do you know that?"

"Well, I was going to wait, but, I have to tell you that I can read minds."

They burst into laughter, the car shaking. It was hilarious, Artie's comment wasn't even that funny, but the two of them couldn't stop. Santana quieted down into small smiles, but he was still chuckling.

God, his smile is…amazing, she thought.

"So, where do you live again?"

"It's a few blocks away from Mercedes' house."

"You want to crank up the radio?'

"Hey, it's your car."

She reached for the stereo.

_We cut the legs off of our pants  
Threw our shoes into the ocean  
Sit back and wave through the daylight  
Sit back and wave through the daylight_

"Hey!" Artie exclaimed. "I love this song!"

_Slip and slide on subway grates  
These shoes are poor man's ice skates  
Fall through like change in the daylight  
Fall through like change in the daylight_

"You love this song? Wow," the cheerleader said with surprise. "Didn't think you'd like this kind of music?"

His eyes widened. "What? How can you say that? Indie music is awesome!"

"Hey, hey don't fight me!" Santana joked. "I love this song too, you know."

Artie backed up playfully, leaning against the door.

"And you were shocked that I liked it."

"I bet all you thought I listened to was pop and R&B, huh Abrams?"

"Whoa…Abrams now huh? Well, Lopez, yes I did, but as I've learned today, you never fail to surprise me. Matt and Kim, really?"

They both laughed good, healthy laughs. They were both really happy, like, really happy. And it wasn't like they were high or anything, they just felt, well, happy. That was the only way to put it. Happy. The two soon fell silent, the music playing in the background.

_I miss yellow lines in my roads  
Some color on monochrome  
Maybe I'll paint them in myself  
Maybe I'll paint them in myself_

_These sidewalks liquid then stone  
Building walls and an old pay phone  
It rings like all through the daylight  
It rings like all through the daylight_

Artie had grown to love talking to Santana. It had just been one day, but it felt like they had known each other for years. And, that was the one thing irking him about the whole situation. They were sitting in her car, driving through some horrible weather, but were still having a great time. But why? Why only now where they able to talk to each other? Did he do something? Or did she do something? Artie peered out the window, looking into the vast curtain of rain.

Why, he asked himself. Well I was always okay with her, I mean she was pretty and all, but I never thought I'd ever get along with her, not like this. He leaned his head against the glass, thinking. Well, she was the only one, the absolute only one, that didn't mention his "accident" at the locker room this morning. That really got him. She didn't pity him, or treat him like he was disabled. He had to ask her why. He practically _had_ to. Artie Abrams wasn't the type of guy to leave questions unanswered.

_And in the daylight we can hitchhike to Maine  
I hope that someday I'll see without these frames  
And in the daylight I don't pick up my phone  
Cause in the daylight anywhere feels like home_

"Hey Santana?"

"Oh, no, it's that tone of voice again."

"Seriously. You have never, ever paid attention to me before today. It's cool and all, and I do love hanging out with you, but I know that you wouldn't do this for just anyone. I'm not saying that you're a bad person, but you, I…I don't really know anymore."

The cheerleader stayed silent. She gripped the steering wheel hard. This sucks; she hated it when people got her to examine herself and all that crap. And to add to that, Artie was just looking at her, with his deep blue eyes, full of curiosity and genuine confusion.

"Well," she hesitated. "You've never really talked to me either."

She had this with a hardened tone in her voice.

"I don't know either Artie. When you bumped into me at the lockers, you didn't really run away, scared and screaming. It's what others would have done. Then you asked me to go to History class with you, History class! It caught me off guard, you know. Plus you had to be all funny and…confident. For one you didn't mention my boob job, or the fact that I was a Cheerio. You just talked about the most random of stuff, and you made me feel at ease! I don't really know how that happened; I've never been able to talk to anyone like that since I met Brittany and since Quinn was still my really good friend. You're just really…I don't know, cool about everything."

Santana poured that out in the most heartfelt, but strong way. She turned to Artie, her dark eyes concentrated on him, like the way they were when she performed.

"I actually wanted to ask you the same question Abrams."

He shifted in his seat, facing her. The car had stopped by now. They were actually right in front of Artie's house already.

"You didn't look at me like I couldn't do stuff, I mean, like normal people. It's as simple as that. It was in your eyes when I bumped into you. It's weird, yeah, but—"

"That's sweet."

He chuckled. "Yeah?"

She leaned back, her hand on the gear shift. He faced her, with a small smile. Santana was actually an amazing person, he thought. It was weird how someone so…bitchy, could become as puzzled as she looked at the moment. Artie reached out, placing his hand on hers. It was sort of involuntary, and as soon as he felt her skin on his, he instinctively pulled back, but stopped himself and continued. Her hand was incredibly soft. She tilted her head down, looking at the sight that was their hands. The cheerleader smiled warmly. Artie smiled back; it was encouraging and cheerful. Santana looked up, at the only guy that made her let go, and actually enjoy it. She leaned closer to him, their noses almost touching, their hands still cupped in each others. Then, with a surprising move, she placed her lips gently on Artie's forehead, her other hand on his shoulder. The two lingered in that position for a few seconds, but to them, it felt like longer. They both leaned back eventually, their hands till together.

"That…was nice."

Santana laughed. "Oh Artie."

"Well," he continued, looking outside. "We're here. And the rain's let up a little."

She followed his gaze. "Yeah, didn't notice that."

"Today was real productive."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Well, I got a new, amazingly awesome…well whatever you are?" he said, swaying their hands. "And, I found a song for Glee."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hell no. You cannot take _Daylight_ from me."

"C'mon Santana! I only realized how awesomely happy that song was! Please, please, please let me use it?"

"No way Artie. No way. Find your own song."

"Well, we could present it together? I think."

The cheerleader laughed. "Really?"

He shrugged. "I think it would be a great idea. I mean, _Daylight_'s lyrics aren't exactly mood lifting, but the tune is real awesome."

She shook her head jokingly. "Well, we'll have to talk about that tomorrow. It's way too late already."

"So that means you're going to have a real, actual conversation with me tomorrow?"

"Shut up wheels. Sarcasm does not become you."

The two soon began to get out, Santana first pulling out the wheelchair, and then Artie, hoisting himself out of the car and into his beloved mode of travel.

"Thanks for the ride Santana. Really."

They stood at the door, Artie looking up at Santana, both smiling.

"Hey," she said, sitting on the porch so she could look at him eye to eye. "Thanks for today. I really enjoyed it."

"Happy to help," he replied, this time, taking her by surprise. He leaned closer, and gave the cheerleader a quick kiss on the lips. Faster than she could react, Artie had wheeled into his house, leaving Santana with a huge grin on his face.

The girl just leaned back, gathering herself. She giggled quietly, and held her hand to her cheek.

Looking up at Artie's window and seeing his shadow, she whispered, "See you tomorrow Abrams."

With that, she left.

* * *

Both teens had arrived home quite late, and when asked why, they both replied:

"It was raining. Hard."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Just in case you didn't catch it, the song featured was Daylight by Matt & Kim, awesome song! Please don't hesitate to R&R!


End file.
